


The Clothes Make The Man

by Authormitchel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Boys In Love, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authormitchel/pseuds/Authormitchel
Summary: Everything is going great for Draco and Harry until that stupid mud.... muggleborn, know it all Granger had to mess it up. Now, armed with a fabulous wardrobe and a tiny novelty Santa, Draco has to win back his man.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 143





	The Clothes Make The Man

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I appreciate every comment and kudos. I haven't written in a while due to various causes so be patient with me. If you are here for Slytherin!Harry, more updates are quickly approaching.

It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. She had purposefully sent her drink flying into him, Draco just knew it. Red wine. Notorious for not coming out even with the toughest of cleaning charms. 

“You stupid mudblood!” he had exclaimed and the bar had went silent. 

“Draco,” Harry had said, his voice broken, while Weasley had jumped to his fiancés defense, ready to pummel Draco into the woodwork of the bar. And Draco had fled. Harry didn’t follow. 

Draco kicked the door of his flat closed. He walked the five steps to the combo kitchen/bathroom and grabbed the container of dish soap he had gotten from Tescos last weekend. It was in a little Santa Claus shaped bottle, but it was on sale and that is how the great Draco Malfoy now does all of his shopping. 

Tiny Santa Claus in one hand and his stained suit jacket in the other he walks to his bed. There’s no place to put a couch in the tiny space and his bedside table is currently covered with the gorgeous bouquet Harry had gotten him on their last date. Some of the petals were starting to turn brown despite the preserving charm Draco had put on them, but they were still beautiful. Draco had both awed and blanched at the gorgeous blooms. He loved Harry for thinking about them, but where on Earth was he going to put them in his tiny flat? Harry, bless his heart, must have bought the biggest bunch he could find. Malfoy’s only get the best right? Harry had said. 

Draco looked at his ruined jacket and laughed without humor. 

“Yes,” he said looking around at the bleak, peeling walls of his flat. “Only the best.” 

In a lot of ways, the ministry had been lenient in dealing with the Malfoy family. Neither he nor his mother got time in Azkaban, and while Lucius did, it wasn’t all that he deserved, and they all knew it. It was the retribution costs that had gotten them. 

Draco had never dreaded going to the Ministry more in his life, not during his first day of auror training when many on the force held very strong feelings about a former Death Eater who thought they could join the ranks, not when he was a child when his father had promised they would spend the day together but really Lucius had spent the whole day taking meeting after meeting with people who all held more worth than he did. 

Draco had been bracing for the inevitable confrontation all night. Harry would look at him with those big, green, clear eyes and Draco would want to give in and tell him the truth. He knew that if he did that Harry might forgive him. But he had gone this long without letting anyone know the truth of his circumstances. He wouldn’t let Harry be with him out of pity. 

Draco had struggled through parts of the training. It helped, even he could admit it, to have been in the same training class as their new lauded hero Harry Potter. As bad as the man didn’t want to, Harry hoarded the attention of those around him. Draco never considered in a million centuries that their superiors would put them together as partners. In Draco’s mind it had been a foregone conclusion that Weasley would gain the illustrious position of Potter’s partner, but their supervisor’s had explained everything. 

“You each have what the other lacks. Potter is force. Malfoy is stealth. Potter has charisma, when needed, and Malfoy is quick witted. You two are a match.” 

Draco had ignored the way that word made his stomach swoop. Harry looked at Draco, almost assessing him. Draco had sat stony faced under the scrutiny. He and Potter had barely exchanged five words since the end of the Death Eater trials and no way was Draco going to give him the satisfaction now. When Harry had finished his analysis he merely nodded, and that had been that. They were partners. 

The other stuff came later. 

Draco didn’t want to think about that right now. 

Draco entered the meeting purposefully late. Harry was always early, and seats at the table usually filled up quickly which meant that Draco could get a spot along the back of the wall, hopefully out of Harry’s eye line. He entered right as Shacklebolt was standing. 

Draco ducked between Laing and Jude, two burly auror buddies whose bulk, Draco hoped would block him further from Harry’s view. The slight tingling feeling up and down his neck alerted Draco to Harry’s position. In a world full of magic, proximity charms and alerts, there was nothing quite like Harry’s eyes on him. Draco couldn’t explain it. In the past few years, he had studied magical theory intensely. But even he couldn’t explain how he always knew when Harry’s eyes were on him. 

It had been a boon during difficult missions, ducking dangerous curses, communicating without speaking, knowing which way the other would run when chasing down a criminal. The two, they learned, could read each other quite well. Then, what had started out as merely a bonus in their professional partnership turned into something else. When Harry had finally convinced him to start spending more time out in “the real world” and less time inside his books, Draco had felt Harry’s eyes on him in a different way. Draco hadn’t failed to go all out then. It didn’t matter if they were just going to the local pub or out to dinner at a mutual friend’s flat, Draco dressed his best in whatever Muggle or Wizarding wear that he owned. And he owned quite a lot. It was one of the few things that the Ministry couldn’t take in easy restitution. And thus, the one thing he had been allowed to keep. 

Heirlooms. Properties. Gold in bank vaults buried in the deepest vaults in Gringotts were ransacked by the Ministry. War was expensive. The Malfoy’s had paid. 

But when Harry had looked at him dancing in the neon light at some club or watched him over boring paperwork as he worked at his desk, Draco felt as if they hadn’t taken the most important things at all. Draco felt that when Harry looked at him, he didn’t see the former mistakes that he had made that some of other aurors saw, he didn’t see Draco’s potential like their supervisors did. Harry just saw him. 

When friendship developed past partnership and the time clock at the Ministry, Draco felt Harry’s eyes on him in still new ways. Harry watching him as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt as he made his way to Harry’s large, comfortable looking bed. Harry eyeing him over tables at snooty restaurants as Draco slowly enjoyed whatever sumptuous meal he had ordered. Harry gazing up lustily at Draco as he attempted to swallow Draco’s cock. 

Draco shook off those thoughts and prepared to leave. Shackelbolt was handing out a few last minute assignments then they would be allowed to leave, and Draco could continue to hide like the coward he is. 

“Potter, Malfoy, stay behind please.” 

Draco’s stomach lurched. What had Harry told them? Did he already mention that he wanted another partner? Had he told people what had happened at dinner? Did he think that Draco truly hadn’t given up his former views after all and thought that the higher ups deserved to know? 

Of course not, Draco chided himself, Harry isn’t like that. 

When the rest of the team had moved out of the conference room, Draco was forced to take a seat on the other side of Kingsley right in front of Harry. 

“Do you remember Carl Basks?” 

Draco’s head snapped to look at Kinglsey. 

“Exactly,” said Kingsley. 

“He’s back in the country?” said Harry, an odd tinge to his voice. 

Kinglsey through a file down on the table between them. Harry reached for it first before sliding it across the table to Draco. Draco managed to grab it without looking at Harry. 

Carl Basks was standing in front of Ollivander’s in Diagon Alley. The brazen fucker. 

“He’s not trying to hide, is he?” asked Harry. 

Kingsley nodded. “He’s taunting us. He knows that we almost had him last time, but managed to sneak away.” 

“He won’t this time,” said Draco vehemently. Draco would kill the man himself, no matter what that did to his new reputation. 

The last time Harry and Draco had come across Carl Basks it hadn’t bene pretty. Basks and his men had been dealing in some dangerous and illegal creature parts. Basks recruited young witches and wizards with the promise of easy money and acclaim, but then didn’t hesitate to drop them and leave them for the aurors while he got away scot free. Harry had infiltrated their ranks the last time, and Basks had nearly killed him when he found out. Draco had barely managed to get from his reconnaissance point to Harry’s location then to St. Mungo’s in time. Draco had returned once Harry was in stable condition to hunt down that bastard Basks and peel his flesh from his bones, but the man was long gone. 

Draco had gotten himself in with a member of the old crew though. Harry couldn’t go back under cover with them, but Draco could. It was one area where his rather depressing flat had been a benefit. There had been a small number of Basks’ old crew who they had let run free, low level attendants who never really got the full scope of Basks’ plans. But now, with the man resurfacing would be calling them in to be the new scapegoats. 

Draco was to go home immediately and wait for one of their owls. Harry was to stay behind and out of sight. 

“But sir,” said Harry. 

“They know what you look like Potter. It would be negligent of the both of us if I allowed you to get back into the field. Malfoy can handle this, or don’t you trust your partner.” 

That tingling feeling was back on Draco’s neck. 

“Of course, I trust him.” 

Draco remained silent. 

“All right then,” said Kingsley, already gathering his folder. “Report back as soon as you know anything.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Draco, already rising from his seat. 

Draco reached across the table for the loan picture of Basks, and felt someone grab his hand. 

“Draco, wait,” said Harry, releasing him when he knew that he had Draco’s attention. 

“Can’t, Potter, you heard Kingsley,” Draco said, and he hated the foreign, fake quality of his “professional” voice. 

“We need to talk,” said Harry. 

“What’s there to talk about?” asked Draco. “I already know what it is that you meant to tell me. And I concur.” 

“What?” asked Harry in a strangled voice.

“I’m a complete and utter bastard and there is no hope for me. You’ve wasted your time.”

Harry laughed. 

“While I agree that you’re a bit of a bastard sometimes, I could never think that I’ve wasted any time that I’ve spent with you.” 

Draco glanced up then, making eye contact with Harry for the first time since he had said that blasted word. 

Harry looked as if he wanted to reach out and touch Draco again, but he stopped himself. 

“Why did you say that, last night? I thought we were over that? I mean, I know you’ve always been a bit finicky about your clothes.” 

Harry smiled, no doubt remembering Draco’s insistence that even in the middle of foreplay that Draco’s clothes were not to be ripped or town in any way. And “for Salazar’s sake Potter, do not rumple the silk.” 

Draco pulled himself away from those thoughts.

“I’ll owl you when I have any more information,” Draco said, then left. The tingling feeling remained long after Harry was out of sight. 

&&&

“I can’t believe we are finally going to meet Basks,” said a young girl with purple hair and a nose piercing. 

“I know, right,” said her equally as excited and colorful friend. 

Draco had merely smiled at the pair. He was excited, too, after all. He was finally going to get revenge on that fucker Basks and make the man wish he had never touched his Harry. They were currently waiting in an old warehouse in what used to be a part of Knockturn Alley, but had since been so vacated and trampy looking that it had been abandoned entirely for the newer portion of the alley that connected to Diagon. Draco was currently perched on a beer barrel as he watched the door for signs of Basks. 

“He likes to make sure we stay on our toes,” said one guy that Draco was particularly close to. “Wouldn’t want a repeat of last time?” 

“Last time?” Draco queried. 

“Yeah,” said the man, brushing the underside of his nose with his forefinger. “An auror had managed to infiltrate, but the cocky arsehole underestimated us. He was too clean cut,   
you know. Looked like he hadn’t ever slept rough in his life. One of the old lot followed him home one night. Bloke lives in this massive place in the middle of London, and yet, said he was doing it all for the money. No one who lives in a place like that is hurting for galleons, are they?” 

Draco nodded. 

So, that was how they got Harry. They couldn’t ever be sure before. 

“No worries about you though. We’ve seen that shit hole you live in, but at least it’s got four walls and a roof.”

Draco nodded, thinking about the disparities between his miniscule flat and Grimmauld Place which Harry had taken ownership of and redecorated in the aftermath of the war. It had taken him a long time to rid the place of nasty memories and even nastier owners, but Harry had finally managed to reinstate Grimmauld Place’s historical moniker of the house of a noble and ancient family. When Harry had a family that is.

Draco’s gut pinched painfully as he realized that Harry’s family and his would never be one in the same. It was better this way. Draco couldn’t provide for Harry. He merely scraped by on his pitiful earnings from the Ministry. And what would the Weasel have to say when he learned that Draco was even poorer than he is. Draco wasn’t sure that he could take the mockery. Weasley and Granger might put on like they have accepted Draco, but there was no way that either of them could forgive him when he could barely tolerate himself. 

His contact nudged him in the side. 

Draco was just about to let loose an angry remark when a man of medium height and average build walked into the room. It was almost laughable how ordinary Basks looked. He was wearing a plain black set of robes, of regular quality. Draco knew the man could afford better, but that would conflict with his vagabond image and his cool with the young generation of kids that he liked to pray on. 

“Hello, all, and welcome to the new world order?” 

Draco scoffed internally. Why did megalomaniacal pricks like him always talk about a new world order? He was selling illegal creature parts not ancient Merlin artifacts. 

Draco had already called in backup. There was no way that Basks was going to get away again. He would pay for the people he landed in Azkaban, and he would pay for Harry. 

Harry had tried to speak to him when Draco had called him about the meeting time, but Draco had shrugged him off easy enough. They had a case to work after all, and Harry takes his job seriously. 

Basks was just handing out orders when Draco prepared to make his move. As Basks called their name, each of the people would walk and receive their orders. 

“Rogers”, said Basks, and Draco moved forward to accept his orders, triggering the trip wire he had cast earlier. Draco reached out to receive his orders when Basks got a good look under his hood. Basks grabbed his arm as he reached for the papers. And before Draco knew it, he had lifted up the sleeve of his arm and revealed the Dark Mark that was still etched onto his skin. 

“Now,” said Basks, in a smooth, deadly voice. “Who do we know that has one of these and is still walking around free? I thought my last encounter with your little boyfriend would have made you lot quit this.” 

Draco lurched his hand away from the man, and went for his wand. Then all hell broke loose. 

Draco was thrown against the wall by a stupefy sent by one of Basks higher ups. Aurors stormed the room from all sides. Spells were cast left and right, and Draco had to yank the arm of the purple haired girl to get her out of the way before she was hit by one of the stray killing curses Basks was throwing like confetti at a parade. 

The purple haired girl looked at him gratefully before remembering that he was a traitor to their noble cause. Draco got to his feet before she could cast anything his direction. He dodged a curse from his right, and saw out of the corner of his eye that Basks, the coward, was making a run for it. 

“Not this time, you bastard,” thought Draco. Draco ran after the man, who was quickly making his way to the exit.

Draco’s team would have set up anti-apparition wards so Draco knew that Basks wasn’t going anywhere. 

Draco shot an incarcerous at the man, but he dodged it. Basks then ran into a solid wall of barrels like the one that Draco was sitting on, and had no where else to run. 

Draco raised his wand. 

“Time to give up, Basks, we have you now,” said Draco. 

The man nodded mockingly. “Yeah, yeah, like you had me last time.” 

“That’s how I recognized you to be honest. It had nothing to do with your mark, and everything to do with him. When we were having out little fun with Potter we took a deep dive into his mind. We didn’t have to scrape hard to get at your face. Little Potter is in love with you. We saw….oh…so much,” said Basks lasciviously. 

Draco shot a curse at him. He always liked to hex them when they were in the middle of a monologue. 

Basks dodged out of the way just in time before he returned fire. Literal fire. Basks, feeling caged, had released fiendfyre. Draco had a horrible flashback of Goyle and the flames that he had unleashed in the Room of Requirement. Draco barely managed a wall of water as Basks sent the flames down on his head. He had already set the whole of the warehouse ceiling aflame. After a quick battle, Draco managed to knock Basks unconscious. Draco restrained and levitated the body, and moved. 

But he was in a maze, where all of the walls were aflame. 

He sent up emergency sparks, but doubted anyone could see them in the smoke and flame. He had to get out of there or he was going to be buried under the collapsing ceiling. 

Draco’s training was battling against the hysteria that was steadily rising inside of him.   
Run, dodge, cast wingardium leviosa here versus a chorus of “You’ll never see his face again” and “Please, let Harry be okay” were battling for space in his mind. 

Then a loud crack echoed. Draco thought it sounded like apparition, but then he looked up and saw a large beam dangling from the ceiling directly above his head. It fell before he could even blink. Then he saw no more. 

&&&

When Draco woke it was in spurts. He couldn’t sustain consciousness for longer than a few seconds, and even then he was uncertain about what was real and what was imagined. Sometimes Harry was there, sometimes he wasn’t. That fact only added to Draco’s sense of disorientation. 

When Draco woke for good, he knew that where he was wasn’t Heaven, but was St. Mungos. He had made it out alive. 

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy,” said the nurse who tucked her head in the room right after Draco had woken and most likely triggered an alarm when he reached for the cup of water on the stand beside him. 

“How are you feeling?” 

After some cursory checks, the nurse got out the clipboard and began to ask Draco questions. Potions taken in the last twenty four hours? Ongoing medicines? Physical activity per week? 

“Address?” said the nurse. 

“Bellamy Street,” said Draco at the same time that someone from the doorway said, “Devonshire.” 

Harry walked into the room. “I thought I asked for someone to call me if he woke?” said Harry. 

The nurse subtly rolled her eyes. 

“And we informed you, Mr. Potter, that no one other than Mr. Malfoy’s next of kin could be updated about his condition. It is why you couldn’t stay when it wasn’t visiting hours.” 

“And I won’t forget that, trust me,” said Harry in a voice that made the proud nurse shrink bank. 

“That’s me done then,” said the nurse as she quickly exited the room. 

Harry, unfortunately for Draco, didn’t follow her. 

“Why did you tell her you live in Bellamy Street? They need to know where to send the potions for your burns?” Harry asked, scolding Draco with his eyes. 

“Because that’s where I live Potter,” said Draco. 

“When did you move? What happened to the manor?” asked Harry. 

“Suppose it’s the new home of some ministry big wig,” said Draco. 

“You sold it?” asked Harry. 

Draco turned his head away from Harry.

“What did your parents have to say about that?” asked Harry. 

Draco was annoyed. 

“They had very little to say about it actually or so the Ministry informed all three of us?” 

Harry looked worried. 

“Draco, what?”   
“It was years ago, Potter, no need to get all head up about it. We paid the price for the crimes that we committed that’s it. What happened to Basks?” Draco asked, hoping to   
change the subject. 

“Azkaban, he won’t be getting out of it this time. Those contacts that you have been working gave him up as fast as they could.” 

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He grabbed his wand, and summoned his clothes. Fuck! His pants were covered in scorch marks. Harry walked to the cabinet in the room, and pulled out a bag. 

“I found these at mine.” 

Draco took the clean, unsinged clothes with ill grace. 

“Fine quality,” commented Harry. “You always did like nice things.” 

Draco laughed humorlessly. 

“Fat lot of good that it did me,” said Draco. 

Harry sat on the edge of the bed. He wasn’t an auror for anything. And he was currently wearing that rather adorable face he got when he was connecting the dots on a particularly difficult case. 

“Restitution,” he said plainly. 

And Draco nodded. 

“But I thought,” 

“You thought wrong, Potter. They took everything. It’s why I never even contemplated quitting auror training after the war. I…we needed the…” 

“the money,” Harry finished. 

“But what about the vaults, the heirlooms, the properties…”

“The Ministry took nearly all of it. Mother and father were able to get enough to set themselves up in France, but even they have to work now. I told them that I could go without. The only thing I was able to keep were…”

“Your clothes,” said Harry connecting the dots. “That’s why you said what you said when Hermione spilled her drink.” 

Draco snorted. 

“My father always did say that the clothes make the man. Well, the clothes are the only thing that I have left. My apartment is smaller than this hospital room, Harry. It’s why I never….”

Everything was spilling out now. Draco couldn’t keep anything in. His head was hurting, his clothes were scorched, he didn’t know when he was going to be allowed to go back to work, and Harry was going to…. 

Harry had leaned over, and pressed his lips against Draco’s. 

Eventually, the pair separated, but Harry’s hand was still in Draco’s hair. 

“You still have to apologize to Hermione,” Harry said. “And you have to invite me over to our flat.” 

Draco stared at Harry in shock. Their eyes were locked for the first time in days, and it felt so good to feel seen again, and to feel like it was warranted. 

“My apartments shit,” Draco said with a laugh. 

“Draco,” said Harry, “you absolute poncy bastard, I love you, I don’t give a damn what your apartment looks like. Let me get that horrid nurse of yours, and I’ll take you home.” 

Harry bounded out of the room, and Draco smiled at the ceiling. There might not be much space in his apartment, but Draco hoped that they wouldn’t need much more space than his tiny bed. Even if they did, and Draco felt Harry’s eyes on him from where he stood in the hallway, they would make it work. His clothes would look better on the floor anyway.


End file.
